


push, forward, rewind

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 15:19:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19275976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: Tatsuya doesn’t dislike challenges (and maybe that's an understatement).





	push, forward, rewind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kornevable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kornevable/gifts).



> title is the prompt
> 
> aged them up to college here

“Rewind that again?” says Tatsuya.

Shuu’s hand hasn’t left the trackpad; he obliges and clicks to show the last few seconds, Tatsuya’s jump reversing and sending the him on the screen back down to the floor more gracefully than is actually possible. It plays forward again; Tatsuya lifts the basketball and he waits too long to shoot, just long enough for the player guarding him to raise his hands in a block. In the moment, he hadn’t felt the hesitation, but there’s definitely a little bit of something on the screen. Not a stutter or a pause, but an unconscious gleam of doubt, like the last piece of glitter ground deep into the carpet. Fuck.

Shuu’s other hand rubs the small of Tatsuya’s back, and Tatsuya realizes he’s tensed up. He’d made bigger mistakes in this game, things he’d been aware of at the time and that he can see, plainly, without rewinding them a few times, mistakes he knows how to correct. He doesn’t dislike challenges (and maybe that's an understatement), but something on this level is hard to know when you’re doing right. There’s no validation, no confirmation except the play going the way you wanted it to and maybe that’s luck.

“Another time?” says Shuu.

Tatsuya shakes his head; he’s not going to learn anything else from watching this moment. “I’ll take over the mouse.”

“Thanks,” says Shuu, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Tatsuya’s forehead. “You know, it’s a few days before our next game…”

“You can go to sleep if you need to,” says Tatsuya. 

“Tatsuya…”

Tatsuya yawns. He’s a little tired, but the sooner he can finish watching through this game video, the sooner he can fix everything in practice. He can study for his Spanish test tomorrow between stats and econ, and he can take a nap before practice to get back the sleep. 

“I can fast-forward through the rest of this half; we don’t play again until the second.”

“Tatsuya,” says Shuu, again, more firmly, a tacit _don’t push it_ , following.

Tatsuya looks back at Shuu, the set of his jaw, the creases in his brow, the slight part between his lips. He’s so fucking stubborn; he’ll fall asleep next to Tatsuya, when Tatsuya lowers the volume and the brightness as much as he can, wake up every so often only to pin Tatsuya down between him and the flimsy arm of their dorm room couch so that the only way to push him back is to wake him up again. Tatsuya’s stubborn, too, but he’s not going to make Shuuzou get shitty sleep on a shitty couch if he wants to watch the highlights. He’ll just get up early and do it before morning practice, or at worst while Shuu is in the shower afterwards, if that’s what it takes to get Shuu to bed right now, when he’s actually sleepy and relaxed.

(Tatsuya is the more tense one, but Shuu’s the one who can’t sleep, on planes or in even bed sometimes, not restless enough to keep Tatsuya awake but he can tell in the morning and he always hates having not been able to help. Maybe Shuu is manipulating him here, but it’s not like him to be that underhanded. He’s not afraid to play that card, but he’s probably too tired to now.)

“Okay,” says Tatsuya. “Bed.”

Tatsuya shuts the laptop and places it on the coffee table, and gets to his feet. He offers a hand to Shuu, and Shuu takes it, letting Tatsuya pull him up. Their faces are inches apart. Shuu brings his hand up to cup Tatsuya’s cheek and crosses the rest of the distance himself. He tastes like stale energy drinks; they should have been in bed already. 

Shuu’s breathing evens out as Tatsuya replays the tape in his head again, backward and forward, the few frames of indecision and hesitation, the block. It’s not always his fault; Shuu always says that and Tatsuya’s okay with giving other people the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes the other person is a better player than you are, and maybe that’s true in this case, but that just means he needs to improve more, faster, so next time he doesn’t hesitate or he shoots it over the hand because he knows how far it’s going to reach.

* * *

When Tatsuya’s alarm rings at four, he shuts it off and rolls over onto his stomach, draping his arm across Shuu. He needs to get up, and Shuu’s still asleep and not stopping him. There’s no light outside the window, but there usually isn’t this early in the morning. He has another alarm set for half past, but nothing until then, and that can wake up Shuu. Tatsuya rolls back over and sits up; Shuu is snoring into the pillow like a wind-up toy marching straight into the wall. It’s pretty cute, actually; Tatsuya tucks the covers back around him and heads back into the living room.

There’s an open bottle of red Gatorade in the fridge, and the video file is still up on Tatsuya’s laptop. He presses play, and begins to watch through the first part of the second half. A couple of bad plays where someone was out of position; they’ve been running those all week. A sweet shot from Shuu that falls right through the net, and the foul Tatsuya had drawn right after. He could do that better next time. His eyelids droop; he rewinds the last few seconds again, then fast-forwards when he yawns and goes too far. Fuck, he might as well just play it. 

He’s not getting much out of it this early in the day, that’s for damn sure. Just shutting his eyes for a few moments while he waits to see himself subbed back in will be fine.

* * *

The sound of the coffeemaker brings Tatsuya back. He doesn’t remember turning it on; he doesn’t remember hearing the alarm from the bedroom or seeing Shuu come in, but it smells like coffee and the video has finished.

Fuck. They have to be late for practice. Tatsuya stands up and turns around to face the kitchen; Shuu is rummaging in the fridge.

“What about practice?” 

“It’s Tuesday,” says Shuu.

Oh. No morning practice on Tuesday. He could have gotten up normal time and watched the video while something closer to awake, with Shuu there. He could have stayed in bed an extra hour or more--he stretches; his back is fucking sore from the the couch. 

“You need more sleep,” Shuu says. 

“You’ve forgotten worse,” says Tatsuya, through a yawn. 

Shuu can’t, and doesn’t, deny it. 

“Come watch with me?” says Tatsuya. 

“Okay,” says Shuu. “When the coffee’s ready.”


End file.
